Teases and Touches
by Pandasushiroll
Summary: Peter Pan and Felix and the life they share together. The adorable snippets of a pairing you never knew you shipped. A series of fluffy Panlix drabbles because the world needs more of them.
1. Pouting

Pouting

Felix knows who it is the moment his hair gets ruffled.

"Felix," Pan whispers carefully, considerately, as if he wasn't actively trying to wake him up—he's being patient and respectful of another person's delicate sleep schedule, Felix should be pleased that he's graduated to this level so quickly. But Felix knows the truth. He's bored. And Peter Pan cannot resist bothering somebody (namely the boy he was currently bothering) when he gets bored.

Usually Felix would give in, letting Peter quite literally drag him from the comfort of bed. But today, for whatever reason, he wasn't feeling quite so charitable. He tried saying so, but his words only melted together, into a sleepy blob of noise that left him moaning pitifully into a pillow.

Peter shuffled somewhere on the bed, readjusting to lean over and prop an elbow up on Felix's back, setting his chin in his hand. His own personal elbow rest. "Oh come on, Felix. Let's play." His whining had gotten no less childish over the years—in fact it seemed to grow more so with every morning that passed.

When pouting didn't work (his first tactic in a long line of tricks), he lifted his head, frowning petulantly at the tall lump of boy in front of him. Glowering didn't work either so he was forced to take his mission on the offensive, he leaned back knowingly, smugly and slid off the bed altogether. And for a few moments Felix thought he was safe. He had won and Pan would leave him alone and let him sleep.

Then of course the covers were harshly ripped from him, leaving him bare and cold and the echo of Peter's laughter as he gleefully dropped the large blanket onto the floor in a heap. "Rise and shine!"

Felix barely lifted his head, wiry hair in a disheveled mass of half formed curls all reaching in different directions. Raking a hand through the mess, the boy sighed, and dropped himself unceremoniously back down onto his pillow. He heard Peter huff, clearly offended. "Oh you're not being any fun today."


	2. Bargaining

_This drabble technically takes place before Pouting does but it makes sense even if it's out of order._

* * *

Bargaining

Pan's version of pleading didn't involve the word "please" or any form of flattery. He was "gracious" enough to offer rewards, but that was as close as he came to compromising. Most of the rewards were trivial things, like a bar of candy (which he probably stole or conjured up from some magic portal), a day of peace in which Felix was left alone (which never lasted because Peter would always get bored and come pester him anyway), or the chance to sleep in—much like he was trying to do right now.


	3. Nudging

Nudging

Peter has adopted this dumb philosophy lately: when words won't do it, nudging will.

The moment Felix felt the elbow digging into his back he knew it was going to be one of those "nudging" days. Fortunately, he had two advantages: size and the element of surprise.

He waited for Peter to lean back, easing the weight off his elbow—presumably to give Felix a chance to respond—and that's when Felix pounced. Rolling over and effectively smushing Peter beneath himself.


	4. Subtly

Subtly

Peter isn't nearly as subtle as he thinks he is. The boy was about as subtle as a shotgun. He was in the process of edging his way into Felix's lap, very slowly and carefully while the dialogue from the television filled in the absence of the conversation they weren't having. _As I Lay Dying _was gripped in the large palm of Felix's left hand, as his right reached to grab the forgotten pillow squashed between Peter's hip and the couch cushion. He pulled the pillow free, and bounced his right leg, effectively disrupting the boy that had settled there.

Peter lifted his head with a little pout and a huff, but waited obediently while Felix placed the pillow underneath the nape of curls at the back of his neck. Once the pillow was placed he made a show of dropping his head rather heavily, keeping summer green eyes pinned on the taller boy.

"Thanks, dear." Peter cooed with a grin—Felix couldn't see it but he could hear it in the boy's playful tone. He turned his attention back to the screen across the room, plucking the remote off the coffee table in front of him, and pressing his thumb unenthusiastically on one of the channel buttons.

Felix, meanwhile, allowed his now unoccupied right hand to drop into the mess of sandy curls on the boy's head, long fingers massaging gentle caresses. It was nice; domestic; warm. Peter sighed under the contact, settling on the soap opera channel, where a large breasted woman was speaking in rapid panicked Spanish. It soon became clear that he wouldn't be watching the show any time soon, as he turned his body toward the tall boy petting his head lovingly.


End file.
